BE CREATIVE

I CAN PLAY SO FAST AND LOOSE with facts and numbers; I could be a politician or tele-evangelist, but I’m neither. There’s an anecdote I’ve heard a few times, the actual numbers quoted are fluid but within my loose-fitting margin-of-error.

It goes like this: A teacher asks a kindergarten class, “How many of you are artists?” Roughly 100% raise their hand. Another teacher asks a seventh-grade class the same question, less than 10% raise a hand of affirmation. WHAT HAPPENS? WHAT ARE WE DOING TO KIDS?

“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up. ”

— Pablo Picasso

“The child is the first artist. Out of the material around him he creates a world of his own. The prototypes of the forms which he devises exist in life, but it is the thing which he himself makes that interests him, not its original in nature. His play is his expression. But as the child ages: Imagination surrenders to the intellect; emotion gives place to knowledge. Gradually the material world shuts in about us until it becomes for us a hard, inert thing, and no longer a living, changing presence, instinct with infinite possibilities of experience and feeling.” —1907, The Gate of Appreciation: Studies in the Relation of Art to Life by Carleton Noyes, Quote Page 29, Published by Houghton Mifflin, Boston, Massachusetts.

Arts District. Tulsa, Oklahoma

Here’s another illustration you may have heard: The young child of a college art professor asks his parent about her job as a teacher, “What do you do?” The parent, trying to couch the answer in kid-terms replies, “I teach people how to draw and paint,” to which the kid says, “Did they forget how?” Isn’t is cutely true that a young, unspoiled mind is creative, they know it and they assume everyone is—unless they’ve forgotten how.

I will go so far as to confess that I believe “creative” is a relative term but I also believe that the most variable (adjective) variable (noun) is courage. In other words, you have to be somewhat fearless to be creative, at least in spurts. That’s my experience anyway.

For several years, I served on the board of an arts organization based in New York City called International Arts Movement or IAM. As a part of my work with IAM, I also served as a “creative catalyst” for a version of the movement here in Oklahoma City. I cherish all of those experiences. During that time I met some powerfully creative people: fine artists, poets, musicians, actors, dancers, novelists, architects, anthropologists, comics, teachers, students, journalists, illustrators, writers, filmmakers, chefs, designers, photographers, songwriters and more.

I remember in my first meeting with the board. I was sitting next to the founder and renowned painter, Mako Fujimura. I tend to doodle in meetings, making little drawings that might resemble 60s psychedelic concert posters. This thought kept racing through my mind: “Don’t doodle! You’re sitting next to one of the finest artists in the world right now!”

Crazy thing though about hanging out with phenomenal artists; the really really good ones are rarely arrogant at all about their creativity. In fact, it was an environment that was much more encouraging than intimidating. They actually want to foster creativity and curiousity and dabbling—and maybe even doodling. During that time I made several trips a year to NYC for board meetings and conferences.

One of my favorite places to go in the city was a place called the Jazz Standard , a jazz club in a basement below a restaurant called BLUESMOKE, founded by legendary restaurant creative, Danny Meyer. One night, at the Jazz Standard the guest artist was a pianist named Helen Sung. She was amazing. Then, lo & behold, I got to the IAM conference the next day, and there is Helen Sung herself. We had a wonderful visit. She was delightful, interesting and interested; the ideal conversationalist.

Recently, My Amazing-Missus and I checked out a fairly new jazz club in Tulsa called “Duet”. I had read about the place and its programming director Jeff Sloan. While we were enjoying some fine and creative dishes before the show started, Jeff stopped by our table to visit with us. I told him the club reminded me of the Jazz Standard; he said that it was one of the models they looked to when creating Duet. I highly recommend you visit Duet soon.

So, is this a post about creativity, a post about jazz clubs, a post where I get to drop names and act like a big shot, a post where I reflect on how much I love being in the midst of creative endeavors, a post encouraging everyone to muster the courage to create, a post where I lay down a bunch of words so I can call myself a “writer”, or a post remembering what used to be and looking forward to what might be? YES! Yes, it is every one of those things.

Want to play along? Up for a challenge? Why not squeeze the creative fruit and see if the juices flow? Doodle, draw, write a simple poem, go to a museum or art exhibit, go for a walk and take pictures (you probably have a camera in your pocket right now built in to that phone/calculator/calendar/flashlight/etc. Or write something.

Here, let me throw out a challenge; a prompt, as an idea for writing something. Sometimes that’s all it takes to get started. Below, I will include the lyrics to The Beatles' “Penny Lane”. Read them through a few times, listen to the song a few times. Don't worry much about the meanings of the lyrics. This is just a prompt. Now grab a pen and paper and write about your "Penny Lane". Everyone has one. Remember it? Write about what is "in your ears and in your eyes" as you ponder the street(s) where you grew up.

I would love to see what you write. Please send your essay to me: hey.pops.hey@gmail.com.

Next Post: Pops' Penny Lane, a.k.a. Quincy Avenue.

PENNY LANE
Lennon and McCartney

In Penny Lane there is a barber showing photographs
Of every head he's had the pleasure to know
And all the people that come and go
Stop and say hello

On the corner is a banker with a motorcar
The little children laugh at him behind his back
And the banker never wears a mack In the pouring rain, very strange

Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes
There beneath the blue suburban skies I sit, and meanwhile back

In Penny Lane there is a fireman with an hourglass
And in his pocket is a portrait of the queen He likes to keep his fire engine clean
It's a clean machine

Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes
A four of fish and finger pies In summer, meanwhile back

Behind the shelter in the middle of a roundabout
The pretty nurse is selling poppies from a tray
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway

In Penny Lane the barber shaves another customer
We see the banker sitting waiting for a trim
And then the fireman rushes in From the pouring rain, very strange

Penny lane is in my ears and in my eyes
There beneath the blue suburban skies I sit, and meanwhile back
Penny lane is in my ears and in my eyes
There beneath the blue suburban skies

Penny Lane

SEVEN

33 YEARS AGO. I was keeping the driveway shoveled so we could make a quick escape through the snow if necessary. 33 YEARS AGO today, it was. My Amazing-Missus woke me early and said, "It's time!" Our second baby had signaled as much. We piled into our little Honda: the expectant mom, a soon-to-be-six-year-old-soon-to-be-big-brother, and me. We met our dear, dear friends Charlie and Shirley along the way. They would be keeping big brother for us. We pulled into the parking lot at Baptist Hospital in Oklahoma City, and at 7:44a our second son, our omega, Kyle Nicholas was born.

Last Sunday morning, January 19, 2020, a little after 7:00a, that same Kyle Nicholas introduced us to his second son, Jeremiah Kent. Kyle's Amazing-Missus, Brooke delivered this beautiful, 9 lb. 10 oz. baby boy on his "due date". And now we have 7!

I'm not going to be presumptious, or attempt to be prophetic, but for now I'm embracing the idea of 7 being the number of completion. There may be another, but for now the list of Grand-Kids is complete. Chronologically: Karlee, Harper, Haddi, Nora, Everly, Malachi, Jeremiah. Welcome to the team Jeremiah.

There is a wonderful, creative, energetic chemistry among this bunch--your siblings and cousins. You'll quickly discover that when you and your band of grands are at our house, there will be a seemingly endless supply of juice boxes and ice cream sandwiches. You'll find that episode after episode of Peppa Pig plays in the background while art is being made, games are being created, and havoc is being wreaked. But it is magical somehow. There is a tie that binds and now you are a part of it all. Welcome.

Jeremiah, I know it's only been a few days now, but I'm sure you're already discovering how much you are loved, how wonderful your mom and dad are. Someday they will tell you how they came to be together. It is like something from a storybook. And now you are a chapter in that book. I can't wait to see how your chapter reads. I know how it starts: "Jeremiah was born on January 19, 2020..." And then somewhere along the way it will say, "And they all lived happily ever-after."

Happy Birthday to Jeremiah's daddy.

AND THE AWARD GOES TO

[file this under: “Pops’ Opinions No One Cares About”]

The Academy has announced the nominees for their awards for 2019. Again this year, they didn’t ask for my take on it all which is probably good since I didn’t see that many movies in 2019, but I’m not one to shy away from offering uninformed opinion.

For “Best Picture” the award should go to LITTLE WOMEN. It won’t, but it should. If I stay up past my bedtime and they announce the winner is JOKER, which they probably will, I’ll mutter, “What do they know?” and go to bed.

The Academy is off to a bad start with me anyway because Christian Bale is not even nominated for “Best Actor in a Supporting Role” for his portrayal of race car driver Ken Miles in FORD VS FERRARI. And in the category of “Stupidest Omissions By the Academy” the winner goes to their stupidity in not nominating Greta Gerwig for “Directing” for LITTLE WOMEN. I’m indignant about this not JUST because there’s not a single female director nominated, but because her work in this beautiful film deserves to be nominated. While we’re on the subject of LITTLE WOMEN, chances are if Saoirse Ronan doesn’t win the award for “Actress in a Leading Role”, I’ll probably push the off button on the TV real hard and go to bed and then read about the Academy’s other poor choices the next morning.

I’m doing some serious pre-judging here because I don’t want JOKER to win and I know nothing about it except for a bit from a reviewer I hold in high regard. Just as I do in my politicians, I like a little dab of redeeming value in my movies.

Speaking of jokes and jokers, I would buy a ticket to see Rudy G. testify before the Senate in that reality show to beat all reality shows kicking off on Tuesday. Better yet I would pay for a seat on the 50 to watch POTUS watch Rudy testify.

I heard an interview on Fresh Air with Terry Gross with the producer, directer and co-writer of JOKER, Todd Phillips, who also did The Hangover movies. He seemed like a nice guy who seemed to be doing some searching of his own to find some redeeming value in his film:

“Oftentimes, you know, movies are mirrors, and they reflect what's going on whenever they take place. And that was something Scott and I really - was important to us, that we are addressing things that we feel or felt were going on in the world in 2016 and '17, as we were writing it.

“You know, we all know the big changes in this country that were happening then. Like, I can tell you when Obama was president, we wrote three "Hangover" movies (laughter). When everything changed, suddenly things felt darker, you know. Anyway, so the mental illness to us was a lot about, you know, what you hear about when social services get cut. What happens to these people? We really thought it was important to shine a light on the system. You know, I think, like a lot of people, the system is broken, and why not use a film to make a comment on that?”

If movies are indeed mirrors reflecting what’s going on; I long to look in the mirror and see TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD. (Nominated for “Best Picture” in 1963. Gregory Peck for his portrayal of Atticus Finch won “Actor in a Lead Role”.)

I MADE IT

ALTHOUGH SOME WARNED I MIGHT NOT. I’ve made it through 69 years. That’s the way it works you know. You don’t get to have a First birthday party until you’ve lived a year. Then you start on year two. So, now I’ve embarked on year 70. I was thinking that sounded incredibly old, but my mother who is 90-something just called to say, “Happy Birthday” and asked me if this was 87 or 88 for me. Good grief mom, what were your early teens like?

I can remember voices from my past like that of my high school geometry teacher telling me I would regret not taking his geometry class more seriously. He was wrong. One thing I did take seriously in school was learning to diagram sentences. I do regret that. I’ve never even once been asked as an adult to diagram a sentence. What a waste. Not really. I’ve always enjoyed words, sentences and drawing lines.

There are some regrets obviously, but none are too crippling. Some I wish I could fix, but I know from Marty McFly how dangerous time travel can be. My bro-in-law and one of my very best friends talks about making amends. I don’t really know how to do that effectively. But it is my desire to.

I heard a man who was in the final hours of a terminal disease say, “I wish I could live my life over again, not because I haven’t enjoyed it but because I have enjoyed it so much.”

Do morbidness and the golden years go hand in hand?

Well even though my physical form has made it through 69 relatively unscathed, I’m still as immature mentally, socially and spiritually as I was in my prime. So life goes on with plenty to aspire to.

“I’m sick of following my dreams. I’m just going to ask them where they’re going, and hook up with them later. ”

— Mitch Hedberg

Someone told me, “Don’t give unsolicited advice. People hate it when old people give unsolicited advice!”

I didn’t ask them for that advice so I’m not going to take it. It doesn’t matter to me whether anyone takes my advice or not. Sometimes I feel like they’re not even listening.

For example, in every episode of Dateline, 20/20, 48-hours and all the rest I yell at those idiots on TV, “if you’re going to kill your wife don’t go to Wal Mart or Home Depot and buy a shovel, a blue tarp, a roll of duct tape and clorox with your credit card.” But still they do it…every single time.

I don’t know how many times I’ve given Billy Donovan coaching advice though the TV; it’s like he can’t even hear me.

Even my Grand-Kids—I offer wisdom and guidance and they give me this little, cute eye-roll, and an, “O Pops.”

Well by golly I’ve reached the point where I can give all the advice I want and the right to ignore any and all advice from others, especially doctors and religious leaders. Just kidding Mom. I’m only 69, and I’m just kidding.

Here’s some advice for you: laugh hard everyday, don’t trust politicians and wear sunscreen.

I’ve been to plenty of kids’ birthday parties over the past few years. These days they have “themes” or destinations like beautiful indoor swimming pools for November swim parties or places like that one with the big mouse, games and bad pizza. I’ve been to rainbow parties, unicorn parties, Minnie Mouse parties. These are so common, one of the grand-girls was a bit indignant when I told her I wasn’t having a party much less a theme.

So that set me to thinking… If I did have a party and a theme what would it be? I decided on this: